American Football: King of the Bay Area

Leonardo DiCaprio was a bit of a mess.

His hands were clamped firmly on the taxi’s rear door as he tried to scramble into the back seat. But a hand on his shoulder, seemingly exerting no force at all, held him rooted to the spot. Behind him, passionate, almost out-of-control screams closed in like a vice.

Sweat trickled down his forehead. The collar of his T-shirt was stretched out of shape, hanging askew. The baseball cap on his head was perched precariously, threatening to fall off at any moment. To make matters worse, he felt one of his shoes starting to slip off.

He wasn’t just a bit of a mess; he was an absolute train wreck.

”Sir… I know you hailed this cab first. How about this: we share it. I just need to get out of this area, and you can drop me off anywhere after that. I’ll pay the whole fare. What do you think?” Leonardo said, frantic. ”Thanks. I mean, I’m really, really grateful.”

”Ryo! AHHHHH!” The heart-rending screams grew closer, like some monstrous beast.

”Alright.” Leonardo felt the hand on his shoulder release. He scrambled into the taxi and quickly beckoned to the other man. ”Quick, get in!” Once the other man was inside and the door was shut, a BANG BANG BANG erupted as countless hands pounded on the taxi’s windows. Without Leonardo having to say a word, the driver gunned the engine and sped off, gradually leaving the commotion behind.

But when he turned to look back, he could still see the relentless figures sprinting desperately, as if they had jets on their heels, vowing not to give up until they caught him. Nevertheless, as the taxi sped away, their forms grew more and more distant, eventually disappearing from sight.

Only then did Leonardo let out a long sigh of relief. He relaxed, took off his baseball cap, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. ”Young man, let me make you an offer. How about you get another cab to your destination, and I’ll pay you a hundred US dollars? I’ll take this one. What do you say?”

”Sir, how about this: I’ll pay you one hundred US dollars, you get another cab, and I’ll stay in this one. What do you think?” Lu Ke’s calm and composed reply left Leonardo stunned. His expression froze, his face a mask of utter shock; he’d never expected to have the tables turned on him like that.

Leonardo didn’t get angry. Instead, he was intrigued, looking the young man before him up and down.

First, he was incredibly young, looking to be in his early twenties. And since he was Asian, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he was under twenty. Second, he was a complete stranger, just an ordinary person. And third, he was wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans—hardly the look of a millionaire.

’Well, now things were getting interesting.’

”May I ask…” Leonardo began, then paused, realizing something. He chuckled at himself and corrected his phrasing. ”First, I have to thank you for helping me out back there. This is your cab. Second, may I ask why you’re so insistent? You could easily take another one. It doesn’t look like you’re in any particular hurry to use this one.”

Leonardo realized that the young man before him wasn’t someone he could easily fool. So, he changed his strategy: express his gratitude first, then ask his question.

”And how do you know I’m not rushing to the hospital? Or that there isn’t a family emergency that means I have to use this cab?” Lu Ke’s rebuttal made Leonardo’s smile stiffen, and a hint of panic flashed across his face.

Then he saw Lu Ke break into a smile. ”The truth is, I’m a football player, and I have to get back to the hotel to meet up with my team. We need to head to the airport. I’d rather not be late and get on my coach’s blacklist.”

Lu Ke was always mindful of his schedule. The trip here had taken about thirty-five to forty minutes, and for the return journey, he had to account for traffic. That’s why he had to race against the clock to get back. Otherwise, he would have had no problem letting Leonardo take the cab.

Leonardo opened his mouth, looking slightly stunned. He found he had no rebuttal, and his expression turned awkward. He wanted to apologize but couldn’t get the words out, and he realized he’d already said thanks. So, he simply changed the subject. ”Football, huh? In Los Angeles, all we know is basketball. As for football, the only person I know is Tom Brady.”

Los Angeles is a basketball and baseball town; it doesn’t have an NFL team at the moment.

”Is that because he has more Super Bowls, or because of his wife?” Lu Ke’s voice held a teasing note.

For a second, Leonardo flushed with shame and anger, glaring at Lu Ke. But he quickly realized he wouldn’t win a physical confrontation and deflated. Annoyed, Leonardo turned his head away, trying to fume in peace, but then his curiosity got the better of him and he turned back. ”You mean you knew who I was this whole time?”

”I live in the twenty-first century. And Mr. DiCaprio, if I’m not being too forward, I grew up watching your movies,” Lu Ke said with a smile.

Leonardo found that he just couldn’t get the upper hand with this young Asian kid. The feeling of being completely stonewalled was just like… just like dealing with a reporter.

Tom Brady’s wife is Gisele Bundchen, and Gisele’s ex-boyfriend was Leonardo.

Gisele and Leonardo had a very deep history. She was the only date he ever brought to the Oscars, and also the only girlfriend he ever proposed to. After they broke up, Leonardo once confessed that Gisele was the biggest regret of his life.

Their relationship had been so famous that it was practically common knowledge. After they broke up, all of Leonardo’s subsequent girlfriends were Victoria’s Secret models. His most recent was Erin Heatherton—the same Erin that Miranda had mentioned earlier.

”Grew up watching my movies? Wait, how old are you, anyway?” Leonardo asked, a bit flustered.

”I was eight when ’Titanic’ came out,” Lu Ke replied politely. It was worth noting that Erin was born in 1989, and so was Lu Ke.

Leonardo felt a retort catch in his throat, unable to get it out. He cycled through several comebacks in his mind but shot them all down, feeling that he would lose no matter what he said. ”You said you were a professional football player? Are you sure you’re not a reporter or something? You don’t work for ’The Washington Post’ or ’The New York Times’?”

”That’s one of my dreams, actually,” Lu Ke admitted openly. ”Are you saying my interviewing skills are up to par, Mr. DiCaprio? My college professor would be thrilled to hear that my pro sports career hasn’t made me forget my professional training.”

Leonardo felt completely stifled. After holding it in, he finally just said, ”Don’t call me Mr. DiCaprio. Ryo is fine. Ryo.”

”Nice to meet you, Ryo. I’m Lu Ke,” Lu Ke said, introducing himself amicably.

Leonardo opened the car window and took a breath of fresh air, which made him feel a little better. ”I know you. The first starting Chinese-American quarterback in NFL history, right? If I remember correctly, you’re the guy everyone’s been talking about.”

”Wow, you’ve actually heard of me! Does that mean Tom Brady and I are the only two football players you know?” Lu Ke beamed, widening his eyes in mock surprise and speaking in an exaggerated tone. He was deliberately poking a sore spot—it was obvious that Leonardo knew more than just one football player.

”You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Leonardo finally realized, and bravely called him out on it.

Lu Ke shrugged. The gesture was noncommittal, but it was as good as an admission—one he made openly, without the slightest hint of embarrassment.

Leonardo stared for a moment, then couldn’t help but chuckle. He couldn’t blame Lu Ke. He was the one who had tried to forcibly take the cab, then tried to kick Lu Ke out after getting in, and had even initiated the attack. The habits he’d formed in Hollywood had made him aggressive and defensive, almost uncontrollably so.

Having come to this realization, he finally calmed down. Leonardo now truly sized Lu Ke up and said curiously, ”Everyone keeps emphasizing how skinny you are, but for God’s sake, you’re as strong as a bull!”

”That depends on your standard of comparison.” Compared to an average person, or even athletes in other sports, Lu Ke was definitely strong—especially with the last few weeks of strength training starting to show results. But compared to other professional football players, especially the behemoths on the Defense Line, Lu Ke still looked slight.

Leonardo realized this and laughed merrily. ”See? I told you, in Los Angeles, we only know basketball.” He started making fun of himself, his earlier irritation gradually replaced by amusement. Chatting with a complete stranger was a nice experience, especially one with such a good sense of humor.

Before he knew it, Lu Ke had arrived at his destination.

Leonardo insisted on refusing Lu Ke’s money for the fare. After they exchanged a few pleasantries and said their goodbyes, he watched Lu Ke get out and shut the door. Just as the taxi was about to pull away, Leonardo suddenly remembered something. He motioned for the driver to stop, then opened the window on the other side. ”Lu Ke, what team did you say you play for?”

”The San Francisco 49ers.” Lu Ke pointed to his teammates behind him, many of whom were wearing San Francisco 49ers hats as they bustled out of the hotel. Leonardo nodded in understanding. ”Have a good trip.” Then he rolled up the window, and the taxi sped away.

The boisterous voices of Logan and Marcus sounded from behind him. ”Hey, Bambi, how’d you get out here so early? We were just saying you must have gone to the bathroom.”

’As expected.’ The oblivious bunch hadn’t even realized Lu Ke had been gone for nearly two hours.